Trust Takes Time to Fix

Back home, after the adrenaline faded, I pulled the dash cam card and sat

at the kitchen table. I didn’t want to watch it—but I had to. The video told the

rest of the story: his eyes dipping down, one hand drifting off the wheel,

a notification lighting the screen. Then the swerve. He knew before I said anything.

His shoulders sank. No yelling, no lecture. Just the quiet disappointment that hurts more.

He lost his phone, his keys, and his freedom for a while. I told him the truth

too: accidents happen, but choices matter. I’m grateful he’s safe—but trust, like cars,

takes time to fix.